


Fear and Trust

by epiproctan



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:04:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3846787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epiproctan/pseuds/epiproctan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aoba has concerns about Clear’s body, but Clear thinks of the perfect way to help him conquer his fears.</p>
<p>And it involves tying him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear and Trust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hitsugi_Zirkus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hitsugi_Zirkus/gifts).



> First of all, I started writing this _last May_ , which means it happened before the drama CDs were even a thing. So I know the way it discusses the problem is a little out of sync with canon but let’s just say it takes place after r:c but before the CD.  
> More importantly, as of today it’s been exactly one year since I published my first DMMd fanfic. For someone who hadn’t written anything at all for ages before that, the amount of support and encouragement I've received from the fandom is astounding. It’s so great to be here a year later, still writing DMMd, posting ClearAo again.  
> Finally, this is for Rennie, since she’s been asking me to write more ClearAo since that day a year ago. Today it's also been a year since the day that we first met (or more accurately the day she first commented on my fic), and I can’t even begin to explain how relieved and pleased I am that we are still friends. <3

It all started because Aoba was getting fidgety.

Not the good kind of fidgety, like when he seemed to lose control over the movements of the muscles in his legs, when he couldn’t help his hips bucking and rolling, when his toes curled involuntarily and his fingers groped desperately for a better hold on Clear. That kind of fidgety was the kind of fidgety that Clear liked a lot, the kind that he sought every time he pressed his lips to Aoba’s and pushed him gently back down onto the mattress. But this wasn’t that kind of fidgety. No, this was the bad kind of fidgety. The kind where Aoba would protest and pull away, face red, pushing Clear’s hands off of any of the places he really wanted to touch. This wasn’t anything new. It happened sometimes.

But he didn’t like it, and it confused him. Wasn’t Aoba the one who had initiated this? They had only been talking, lounging on the bed in Clear’s old room in his grandpa’s house, barely even touching, when suddenly Aoba had rolled towards him and kissed him. It wasn’t long after that Aoba had repositioned himself to a more convenient location, namely, Clear’s lap.

He had shown all the signs of wanting more. Even after Clear’s hands had snaked their way under his shirt and Clear had asked, “Do you like it when I touch you here, Aoba-san?” Aoba had merely blushed and looked away and mumbled something irritatedly that definitely meant yes. Clear had assumed that it was okay for him to push Aoba down onto the bed and begin removing his clothes, and Aoba seemed to have been in agreement…at first. But now he had _that look_ on his face. The one where his eyebrows were low and his eyes cast downwards, and his mouth formed a little frown.

Clear knew that look. Something was on Aoba’s mind. But despite his expression, he was still clinging to Clear almost expectantly, his erection hard and growing. Maybe if Clear were human, he thought, he would understand what was going on better, but he wasn’t, and he didn’t quite get what was happening in Aoba’s mind. Why he was suddenly acting like this.

He resorted to words like he always did. “Is something wrong, Aoba-san?” he asked, brushing his recently-ungloved fingers along his lover’s cheek. It was so soft and round, and Clear was grateful every day that he _could_ touch it, even when Aoba was wearing a frown so nearby. “Do you want to stop?”

But Aoba just shook his head and looked away. “Not really. It’s not that….”

Clear couldn’t be totally sure but he thought that Aoba was probably lying to him. He searched his face for some sign, some idea, but he didn’t really know yet what his next question should be. It was about as he was starting to attempt to form a sentence that he caught it. Aoba’s gaze flickered to his right ear for a brief moment. 

Ah, that was it.

“You don’t have to worry,” Clear reassured him with a gentle smile. “I’m fine. I won’t fall apart again.”

Aoba glanced up in surprise, but quickly averted his eyes again. “I know,” he sighed. “I know. It’s just….”

He stopped talking here, unwilling to voice his thoughts for whatever reason. Clear waited for him to continue, but Aoba seemed to think his statement complete and went to kiss Clear again, hesitantly. It was Clear’s turn to hold him away, still not liking the look on his face and the way his caresses were too gentle, too tentative.

“Aoba-san,” Clear said firmly. He was almost getting used to this. It happened every so often when they made love. Aoba would suddenly become very unsure, very doubtful, and touch Clear like he was made from the same material as the bottles that filled his room. He would run his fingers along the lines where his skin tone abruptly changed shades and then look at his own hands as though remembering the way the artificial flesh and the underlying metal had crumbled to pieces in his arms. It wasn’t that this annoyed Clear, exactly. In fact, he was thrilled that Aoba felt such concern for him. He knew it was out of some kind of fondness, some desire to be near him, which was an idea that still baffled Clear in the most joyful way. Yet he simultaneously didn’t want Aoba to feel that concern, to feel bad ever, and sometimes it prevented them from continuing to have good experiences together. Usually Aoba would snap out of it after talking for a little while, but Clear wanted Aoba to know that things were okay, permanently, and that he didn’t have to push Clear away every time he was feeling doubtful.

 “I’m sorry, Clear,” said Aoba, pulling away again, looking down with red cheeks. “I just…sometimes….” He took a big deep breath here before continuing. “Sometimes when I touch you, I remember what happened. I can’t get it out of my head. I’m afraid if I do something wrong you’ll…you’ll break…again.”

Clear looked away and thought about this for a little bit, gnawing on his bottom lip. Of course it was exactly what he had expected, because he’d heard it before. But there had to be something he could do about it.

“What if you don’t have to worry about touching me?” mused Clear suddenly, leaning down towards Aoba once again.

Aoba gave him a sharp look, alarmed at the sudden excitement. “What do you mean?”

Clear squeezed his hip thoughtfully. “If you’re not doing anything, you don’t have to worry about breaking me. Right?”

“I don’t know if it works like that…”

But Clear was set on an idea now, and he wouldn’t give it up easily. He glanced about the room, searching, and then his eye alit on the green scarf that laid abandoned on the floor. He darted down to grab it, and then returned to his position over Aoba, gathering both of his hands in his.

“Hey, what are you—?!“ Aoba protested, staring at the scarf in alarm. He was aware now that Clear had a plan, something in mind, and knowing the way his head worked in situations like this it probably wasn’t something that Aoba would ever admit aloud that he wanted to do.

“Aoba-san,” Clear interrupted gently, stroking his thumb along Aoba’s wrist. “Please let me take care of you.”

“What’re you going to do with that?” Aoba demanded. He didn’t yank his hands away, but he wasn’t giving in to Clear’s grasp either, his muscles tensed under Clear’s hand.

Clear tried his best to make his smile as comforting and soothing as possible. “May I tie your wrists? That way you won’t have to worry about anything.”

“No!” Aoba howled, instant and contrary.

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing!”

Clear frowned. “Do I embarrass you?”

Aoba’s sigh was huffy and exasperated, his eyes guarded and on the scarf clutched in Clear’s hand as though he half expected it to lunge out of his grip and wind around him itself. He looked back up at Clear’s face, and something he saw there broke his rising tone into something smaller and less defensive.

“Of course not,” he grumbled. “It’s just…weird. Being tied up.”

“Do you think you can please bear with it?” Clear asked, his brow creasing. “I don’t want you to interfere. I want this to be good for you, Aoba-san.”

There was a long moment during which they stared at each other silently, neither entirely willing to back down. Clear was certain Aoba would enjoy this experience if he’d just _let_ himself, but he was being stubborn and willful as usual, and Clear knew that if he gave in, the rest of their time today would be just as hesitant and halting as it had been up until now.

“Let me take care of you,” Clear repeated. “Please don’t worry anymore.”

Aoba looked away, cleared his throat, and finally relaxed into Clear’s grip.

“Fine.”

Clear grinned. “Thank you, Aoba-san!” He pulled Aoba’s hands up over his head, began winding the fabric around his wrists. Aoba didn’t resist at all, his expression resigned, as Clear tied the scarf to a metal post of the headboard. “I promise, this will be really really good!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aoba huffed, looking anywhere but at Clear’s shining, smiling face above him as he finished off the knot.

 “Is this too tight?” Clear asked gently once he was sure Aoba was secured. “Does it hurt?”

Aoba pulled at the knots, arm muscles straining against the confines of the fabric. “No,” he admitted reluctantly, turning his face to the side as if to hide his blushing against his arm. He was bare, completely, and laid out before Clear like an unexplored landscape, unobstructed by any kinds of obstacles or hindrances. Clear could see everything in a way that Aoba so rarely let him, and without his arms in the way Clear took a moment to drink him in, from the wild blue hair framing his burning red face down to his half-hardened cock, resting, waiting, against his stomach.

“Are you going to do anything?” Aoba finally demanded, the way his shoulders twisted showing just how much he wished he could cover himself.

“Yes, of course,” Clear breathed reverently, and leaned forward to drag his fingers down the smooth skin on Aoba’s sides. He was still fidgeting, still squirming, but he couldn’t move Clear’s hands away, couldn’t stop him from the way he delicately touched him. He couldn’t push Clear’s face away either when he bent down over Aoba’s chest and pressed his lips to the pale skin. He peppered kisses down his sternum, pausing halfway to shift to the left and suck at his nipple, pinch it gently between his teeth. Aoba stifled a moan. Clear’s tongue circled as he listened to Aoba’s frantically pounding heart.

“Clear,” Aoba protested, begged, his breath starting to come in airy little pants that Clear prided himself on being the cause of.

“Aoba-san,” Clear responded tenderly, dragging the tips of his fingers over Aoba’s hipbone, and Aoba was powerless, both physically and mentally. Reduced to helpless heaves of his breath and eyes that couldn’t shift away from Clear’s face, Aoba shut his lips in a thin but silent line, battling his embarrassment internally. Maybe he wasn’t completely pleased yet, but it was enough that Clear could pamper him like this. He would make him happy. Clear set to work, licking and sucking, tracing lines down Aoba’s body with his fingers and his tongue, carefully and masterfully eliciting soft sounds of pleasure that gave way to full-out moaning before long.

“Something’s different today, Aoba-san,” Clear noted, having finally worked his way down his lover’s body to find his cock already swollen, droplets of pre-come glistening on its head. Clear licked them up, causing Aoba’s entire body to jolt.

“No—don’t—,” he choked out, pulling against his bonds helplessly, though seemingly more out of instinct than an actual effort to free himself. Clear leaned back to take a look at his helplessly writhing body and found himself enjoying the sight a good deal. Everything was his to see and touch and take. His face, blushing red and scrunched up in pleasure, his slender torso, twisting with the feeling in his hips, his erect cock, pink and glistening at the tip. He was gorgeous, he was so gorgeous, and Clear wanted it all.

“You’re so beautiful,” he told him before opening his mouth and lowering it down around Aoba’s dick. He had to put both of his hands on Aoba’s hips and press him into the mattress to keep him from trying to wriggle away, trying to free himself from Clear’s grasp without the use of his arms. But with that Clear began to suck, moving his head up and down, letting the tip of Aoba’s cock dig into his throat as he took in as much of it as he could. He glanced up towards Aoba’s face as he worked, trying to keep it in view even as his eyes watered instinctively. Aoba’s face was incredible. Aoba’s face, which was dusted pink, his eyelids heavy and half-shut as whimpers and moans spilled from between gasping lips, was everything Clear had hoped it to be. It seemed to Clear that he was a helpless mess right now, even more so and much faster than he usually was. Perhaps it was being restrained that made him that way?

Clear removed Aoba from his mouth to voice this question, and Aoba’s reply was a strangled groan that was probably meant to sound angry but instead was saturated with lust and desperation. Clear could interpret that as a yes, right?

Probably.

When Clear leaned down again he took just the tip of Aoba’s head between his lips, and Aoba bucked so hard that Clear had to back away and reposition himself.

“Ahh…Clear…!” Aoba moaned, tears filling his eyes. “Hah, that’s—.”

But Clear wasn’t listening anymore. Clear didn’t know how Aoba planned on finishing that sentence but he could guess. And though Clear would never want to do something that Aoba didn’t like, he had a suspicion that perhaps Aoba was enjoying this as much as Clear was. Which was a considerable amount. He had always dreamed of something like this, if he was to be honest. Without Aoba’s embarrassment and fear pushing him away, he could do whatever he wanted. He could make Aoba feel absolutely amazing, spoil him, touch him in all the ways that he knew he would love. And Aoba could relax and let these things happen without overthinking it, because it was out of his control, after all. He didn’t need to resist because he couldn’t stop Clear.

He put his fingers into his mouth and quickly coated them in saliva before he tightened his lips around Aoba’s shaft and took him entirely in again. With that hand, he moved against Aoba’s ass, pressing and stroking down towards his hole. Feeling for it, he gently massaged at it for a moment, circling it lightly, soothingly, and then carefully pushed inside, sucking harder when he felt Aoba tense beneath him. He didn’t want Aoba to be uncomfortable at all, although he knew how strange it was to have something pushed up into him, so he focused on Aoba’s pleasure, dragging his tongue up the underside of his cock as he raised his head again, pressing into the slit, putting pressure on the places he knew Aoba felt it most.

Groaning and writhing, Aoba exhaled hard and vocally as Clear twisted his finger inside up to the knuckle. Clear kept his eyes on him even as he bobbed his head, making sure that his face didn’t turn pained, that his voice stayed breathlessly ecstatic, that his protests were light and superficial. He made sure of this even as he added a second slick finger, and then pushed it in slowly, curling and wiggling to loosen him, and searching. He wanted to give Aoba something good for everything that Aoba had given him. But as he went to add a third, he pulled back from his cock, and he could see it.

Aoba’s hair was in complete disarray from his struggles, edging his blushing face in a mess of blue, sweat-drenched at the roots. His arms strained as he pulled futilely at the knots in Clear’s scarf, which were holding surprisingly well. His eyelids heavy over faraway hazy irises, his mouth open as he panted for breath and moaned, saliva dripping from a corner. His lips were red and swollen from their kisses. He was so full of so many different colors, so full of life, something that was completely organic in a way that Clear could never know. But he could hold it in his arms and love it, treasure it…make him feel alive in the best way possible.

“Are you doing okay, Aoba-san?” he asked, twisting his fingers deeper. He could barely contain himself at this point, but Aoba’s comfort was top priority. If Aoba wasn’t ready then he would feel pain, and that would just end up making both of them unhappy.

Aoba gasped out a strangled, “Yeah,” followed by a high keen as Clear found something good with his fingertips.

This surprised Clear. He had half expected a complaint, some plea to untie him, but Aoba seemed to be completely lost to the feeling in his hips, to the way Clear’s work made his knees jerk and his heels drag against the sheets. He was really truly enjoying it, then. Clear grinned.

He was stunning, and Clear didn’t really know how much longer he could hold himself back for. He wanted to be inside Aoba, to feel them move together. To reach deep within him and make him feel good. It was probably time.

Taking his fingers out, he crawled up Aoba’s body and looked into his heavy-lidded eyes, misty with pleasure and want. Aoba tilted his head, lifted his chin, as though trying to get closer to Clear, as though going in for a kiss. Clear thought he’d never seen something so cute as his breath hitched, and he dove in to press their mouths together, open and sloppy. He wanted this, to taste him deeply, everywhere and anywhere, to know Aoba inside and out. And in order to do that, he needed to assure him. He needed to make him know that he would always be here. He would never leave Aoba ever again, he would never let him be sad or alone. They would be together for as long as Aoba was alive, and nothing would ever keep them apart.

“Clear—,” gasped Aoba, and Clear noticed his arms were shaking. “Clear, pl-please!”

Happiness and desire and relief all crashed through Clear all at once like a lightning strike. “Of course, Aoba-san.”

He pulled away a little to more solidly position himself between Aoba’s legs, prodding his thighs wider as Aoba stared at him with some kind of fierce desperation in his eyes. He wanted him, Clear realized. He wanted him probably just as much as Clear wanted Aoba, and this thought made Clear grit his teeth in concentration as he lined himself up below Aoba, doing everything in his power to not just thrust into him with all his strength. But it was hard when Aoba did that _thing_ with his hips where he pushed them down, like he was _trying_ to make sure Clear was entering him quickly, and that drove him absolutely insane.

But still he pushed in slowly, gently, feeling Aoba’s insides centimeter by centimeter, patient even as he was surrounded by his maddening heat. He locked eyes with Aoba as he did, and in their wanting hazel depths he could see all the trust that Aoba had in him. Maybe Aoba would never completely believe him when he said that everything was okay now, that his body was strong and durable. But maybe this would help, and maybe one day Aoba wouldn’t be so frightened anymore. Right now, at least, it appeared that his helplessness had resigned him to the fact that it was Clear’s turn to take care of him, just as it had once been his turn to take care of Clear.

Pausing once completely inside, Clear grabbed Aoba’s cock and pumped it loosely to keep him from discomfort, and then leaned forward to catch his lips again. Aoba sighed into him, and Clear could almost feel the blood pounding through his veins, the way his whole body buzzed with a frantic energy. He wanted that, wanted to capture that, and here it was, all in his arms.

He could have him.

Clear started out with a few slow, shallow thrusts, testing Aoba’s reactions, searching for signs of pain. The only response he got was Aoba’s hands uselessly tightening into fists above his head and a breathy moan, so he picked up a little, matching the pace of his hand to the pace of his hips as he went harder, deeper. There was no adverse feedback after a moment so, making sure Aoba was comfortable with his observant eyes, he truly began to drive inside. Aoba was so tight, so hot, it was hard to hold back, with his need to feel him completely, to know him inside out, to have every single part of him for himself. Clear wanted to do that for him, to feel every bit of him and to let Aoba feel him in return, to let him know how much Clear cared for him. How much Clear would always be there. He wouldn’t leave anymore.

He swooped in towards his mouth again and they joined there loosely, in something wet and messy, until gasps and groans were pouring from Aoba’s mouth into his own. With his free hand, the one that wasn’t stroking Aoba, he relearned the feel of the skin of his hip, the way his bone jutted out, where it gave way to working muscle. This was all part of Aoba, part of Aoba that he wanted to know and feel.

Deeper.

Clear leaned back, pulled out, and Aoba protested with a cry and a toss of his torso. Without his arms to stabilize himself all he could do was flop and flail, and it amused Clear to the point where he grinned as he lifted Aoba’s calves onto his shoulders.

“Hey, what are you—” Aoba began, but before he could finish, Clear was inside of him again.

Aoba just about screamed.

Something about this position, here with Aoba’s knees tucked in towards his chest as far as Clear was willing to push them, had him absolutely breathless. Clear could feel it roiling in himself, the deep growing pleasure, the frantic need, but none of that mattered in the face of Aoba’s reaction. His face scrunched up, his whole body slick with sweat, the feel of his thighs jerking and shaking as Clear held onto them, it all was like a beautiful piece of art that Clear had put so much effort into making. He had found something sweet and delicious inside of Aoba, and as he continued to thrust against it, hard and fast and completely unrestrained, their eyes met.

Neither looked away. Clear felt like he couldn’t, like he wouldn’t be able to if he tried, like gravity was pulling them together and keeping them locked into place. Aoba’s eyes were beautiful, and in them he could see everything he was feeling reflected, his need, his heat, his trust, his love. Aoba didn’t break his gaze, even as his lips parted in sweet pants and moans, staring into Clear, touching him in ways that his bound hands couldn’t.

Clear was whole, and Clear was still there and with him. And Aoba was around him everywhere. And he was inside of him, feeling him, driving him towards his pleasure, securing him in his trust. And this was all Clear wanted. This was more than he should be asking for, really. But they were both here and connected and lost in each other’s heat. And Clear wasn’t breaking down.

He held himself off until Aoba came. He could tell it was coming from the way Aoba’s head tilted back, from the way he thrashed as though overcome, from the way his eyes rolled back as he fought to keep his eyelids open and his gaze on Clear. He clenched around Clear, squeezing his orgasm out of him, but Clear was more focused on the way that Aoba’s body jolted as the pleasure rolled through him, how he shook the bed with how hard he jerked at the scarf securing his hands, how he threw his head as he let the sensation be known with a high and loud moan. His semen splattered across his own stomach and chest as Clear’s poured out within him, pushing them both through it, not stopping until they each were done. Done, floating, breathing hard. Eyes locked.

Happy.

“Clear,” Aoba breathed, his shoulders still shaking with the weight of his orgasm.

Clear smiled dreamily and wondered if his face would malfunction if he grinned too hard. “Yes, Aoba-san?”

Aoba clenched his teeth together. “Untie me. Right now,” he growled through them.

“Ah!” Clear hurried to pull out, dropping Aoba’s thighs from off where they had slipped down his biceps, and leaned across the length of his lover to pull at the knots restraining his arms. The fabric fell through his grasp as it came undone, and the moment he was free Aoba tucked his arms in against his chest. “That didn’t hurt you badly, did it, Aoba-san?”

“No,” Aoba mumbled, examining his wrists. They were ringed with red imprints, but nothing to cause alarm. Clear gathered his hands between his own anyway, and pressed kisses to the irritated skin, and rubbed soothing circles with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry about this,” he said against the curve of Aoba’s wrist, his lips pressed there, holding still. He found nothing blaming in Aoba’s expression, so he went a step further. “Do you trust me yet?”

“Clear,” Aoba gasped, suddenly sitting up straight, breaking his hands out of his grasp. He threw his arms around Clear’s shoulders, drew him in close. “I’ve always trusted you. But…” He gnawed on his bottom lip and glanced away from a second, before returning his vision to him squarely. “I’ll try to believe you more from now on. When you tell me you’re okay.”

Clear dragged Aoba into a tight hug, their damp skin sticking together. Somewhat uncomfortably, but Clear couldn’t care less. “Thank you, Aoba-san.” He inhaled deeply of Aoba’s hair, and it smelled like everything lovely in the entire world. “And thank you for letting me do this.”

Clearing his throat, Aoba pushed Clear just far away enough to look at him. “My shoulders are a bit sore, though,” he said, not unkindly, and then glanced down. His sheepish expression was heart-stoppingly cute. Clear would have been in trouble if he’d had one. “Do you think you can rub them after I get cleaned up?”

Clear laughed. “Of course, Aoba-san.”

**Author's Note:**

> So like maybe then drama CD and it turns out Clear isn't okay after all? lmao I just really wanted to get this out of my WIP folder tbh. 
> 
> But anyway, thanks, DMMd fandom, for an amazing year of fanfiction writing.


End file.
